For thee the Muse shall twine a wreath
And deck it every morn
And when the evening shades arise
remember annas urn
And when the social attic hour
With Stanhope shall return
With gentle pity's moistened eye
Ill think of annas urn
The plaintive notes still heave my heart
This heart thats doom'd to mourn
Tho t'was not anna claim'd the tear
But Thy Eliza's urn
You mourn the sister lost and I
The much lov'd husband mourn
For these thro life the tender sigh
Shall breathe around their urn
And now I hear the melting trill
And see thy beaming eyes
When thou with musics heavenly skill
Bid Sandy's ghost arise
What soft emotions seize my soul
And steal thro every pore
Methinks I hear poor Sandy say
Sweet Mary weep no more